


2AM

by polyamory



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fast Food, Gen, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I just- can't sleep and I can't stand to be inside anymore. I just want- I want to go- somewhere," Bucky speaks, voice a low rasp.<br/>"That's okay, we can just walk for a little while, yeah? Sound good?" Steve says and he sounds plaintively hopeful even to his own ears.</p>
<p>(In which Bucky and Steve go out for a walk at 2 am and end up going to Five Guys and talking about feelings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	2AM

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my beta and muse, emerson, who gave me this prompt at ass o'clock at night when I couldn't sleep. if you enjoy it let me know c:

The scream that wakes Steve in the middle of the night comes as no surprise. Neither does the crash that follows it, which sounds suspiciously like a bedside lamp being smashed by a metal arm.

Steve lies awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and counting the seconds that pass. He tries not to imagine what Bucky is doing next door, if he's okay. He'll just drive himself up the wall thinking about it.

He knows better by now than to go knocking on Bucky's door, so it does come as quite a surprise to hear the knock on his bedroom door a good five minutes later.

He pads to the door, barefoot and in just his underwear.

Bucky is waiting on the other side when he opens the door, looking deeply uncomfortable.

"What's up, Buck?" Steve asks, trying for casual and failing.

Bucky is silent for a moment before he says, "Can we -" he breaks off, looking pained.

"Whatever you need," Steve assures him.

There's a flicker of something on Bucky's face and Steve thinks he's overstepped his welcome again (it's hard to say sometimes nowadays; Steve tends to hover, tends to be too overbearing in his attempts to help Bucky and stifles him with it) when Bucky talks again, voice a low rasp.

"I just- can't sleep and I can't stand to be inside anymore. I just want- I want to go- somewhere."

"That's okay, we can just walk for a little while, yeah? Sound good?" Steve says and he sounds plaintively hopeful even to his own ears. "Let me just-" he suppresses a yawn, "Let me just put on a shirt and some sweatpants, okay?"

Bucky stands in the open door, waiting while Steve walks over to his dresser and pulls out a t-shirt and pants.

He glances over at Bucky, standing there clad in jeans, hoodie and boots, his usual sleeping attire nowadays.

 

The streets of New York are never truly deserted and even now, as they step out onto the street, there are people hurrying up and down the streets, people that are just going to sleep, people that have just woken up and people that haven't slept in the last two days and probably won't think about it for another two.

Bucky takes the lead, turning right at the corner and Steve follows him, just like he's always followed him.

They walk for a while without talking, block after block fading away until the line of Bucky's shoulders isn't quite so tense anymore, and he slows down a little to something more appropriate for a 2 am walk through the city.

Steve's stomach rumbles and, almost absent-mindedly, he realizes he's hungry.

Bucky turns towards him at the noise, brows furrowed.

"You're hungry," he says and it's not a question but it's the first thing he's said since they left the building so it's good enough for Steve.

"I'm always hungry nowadays," Steve shrugs it off.

That makes Bucky's frown deepen for some reason. He doesn't say anything more though, just turns back around and keeps walking and Steve is left blinking in his wake, caught off guard.

A few blocks and several turns later, Bucky stops abruptly and Steve tenses, thinking Bucky's sensed some kind of threat and is about to take off, until he realizes where they are.

"Five Guys?"

Bucky doesn't say anything, just shoulders the door open and counts on Steve to follow him.

"What can I do for you?" the guy at the register asks, his bored gaze fixed somewhere above Steve's shoulder.

Steve looks to Bucky for guidance or any hint but Bucky is resolutely staring at the scuff marks on the floor.

Steve goes with his gut because that's what he does and it (usually) doesn't fail him.

"Two large fries and two cokes, please." Only after he's ordered it occurs to Steve that he doesn't have his wallet with him, but today must be his lucky day (night, whatever) because when he checks his pockets there's a wrinkled twenty dollar bill there.

 

"So, why Five Guys? Any reason? Or was it just the nearest location you had conveniently memorized that serves food at 2 am?" Steve asks when they sit down with their food.

Bucky looks at him, shuffling his chair around until his back is to the wall and he's got straight sightlines to all the exits.

"Sam took me here a few days ago," he says eventually. "And they have great fries."

With that he digs into his fries spreading them out over a napkin with a dollop of ketchup in one corner.

Steve wills himself not to just sit there and stare at Bucky like a complete dork but he can't help how he glances at him in between bites of fries, which, yeah, are surprisingly good, actually.

"Sam takes me out to eat a lot, you know," Bucky speaks up again when half of his fries are done. "We meet up outside the Vet Office when he's done with work and I'm done with therapy and he shows me the best places to eat."

Bucky looks up at him and it's all Steve can do to nod for him to go on.

"He has a different theme every week. Sometimes it's all Mexican food, then its all chicken wings and last week was the best fast food joints."

"I'm glad you're getting out more," Steve says, smiling.

"He said I should go out with other people too but I told him you're probably too busy to take me out for walks." Bucky's smile twists downwards. "He said I should at least ask anyway."

Steve is about to reply to that when Bucky goes on, "So now I did, ask you, I mean, because Sam is wicked conceptive about these things and he'd know if I didn't. So here, you don't have to say anything obviously, I just had to," he makes a motion that Steve interprets as 'let it out.'

"Can I say something, though? If I want to?" he asks.

Bucky scoffs. "When's anybody ever stopped you from speaking your mind?"

"True," Steve grins. "And I'd really like going out more with you."

Bucky looks as if he's been caught off balance by that answer, as if he never actually expected Steve to want to spend time with him.

"I'm- I'm not always up for everything, just a fair warning," Bucky says then, almost tentatively.

"Duly noted. Then I guess it's my turn to say fair warning, I'm not always up for everything either. Crowded places freak me out sometimes and I don't like having water splashed in my face without warning. And I hate planes."

"Wasn't SHIELD's headquarters on some kinda plane though?" Bucky frowns.

"Helicarrier, yeah. Woke up screaming every night I spent up there," Steve shrugs.

"That's not good. Have you told your therapist about that?" Bucky asks, picking at his fries.

Steve snorts. "Me and my therapist we don't really get along," he laughs.

"Then you have the wrong therapist," Bucky says and he sounds so earnest.

"I don't think there's really a right therapist for me," Steve says, smile turned bitter at the memory of all the failed therapy sessions.

Bucky takes a slurping sip of soda before he speaks again. "That right there, that's just bullocks, Rogers and you know it."

Steve bristles at the accusation in Bucky's tone (and maybe it hits a little too close to home, so what?).

"Can we talk about something else please?" he asks, literally grabbing for straws. He takes a big gulp of his coke, thinking about his next words but Bucky beats him to it.

"I remember some things, you know? I know we never talk about it but- I just felt like I needed to tell you. I mean- I don't remember everything, not by a long stretch, but I remember some things. I get that you don't want to talk about it though, no pressure."

"What? Why would you think I don't wanna talk about it? If you want to, of course I'd want to talk about it," Steve splutters, rocking forward in his seat.

"It has gotta be painful for you," Bucky says and now he sounds almost stern, like he's lecturing Steve. "You have got to stop doing things you don't want to just because you think it's what I want or what I need."

"I would never-" Steve stops abruptly at the look Bucky is giving him. "Okay, yes, fine. I would. But I'm not now. I really would like to talk about your memories. Our memories. That is, if you want to."

"Under one condition," Bucky says.

"Sure, anything. Anything at all," Steve hastens to agree.

Bucky gives him an incredulous look.

"You have got to start setting limits. For your own comfort and safety. There's no healthy relationships without limits. On both sides,"Bucky says. "So I gotta set myself some limits and you have to do the same thing, okay?"

"Okay," Steve swallows. "Yeah, I can do that." He laughs shakily. "God, when did you become the reasonable one in this friendship?"

That makes Bucky snort. "For real, Rogers? I've always been the reasonable one of the two of us. I went to the science fair for fun. Meanwhile, you had to be dragged away from fistfights at least twice a day and you were about the size of a drowned kitten."

"Lies and slander," Steve can't help but laugh as he replies. "Have you never picked up a history book? They all say the same thing, Steve Rogers, national icon, as pure and innocent as the freshly fallen snow."

"You're about as innocent and pure as the roadside slush, Stevie."

Bucky is grinning now, small still but making his face seems lighter even where it's hidden in the shadows by his long hair.

"And the best thing is," Steve goes on, "they all think I'm a virgin."

Bucky goes abruptly silent and Steve thinks that's it, he's managed to fuck it up again somehow, until he sees the truly wicked grin on Bucky's face.

"You know, I remember some of the things we used to do together, that's not what I'd call virginal."

"You- You do?" Steve asks and somewhere deep inside his chest a little thing called hope flutters to life.

"Just,  please don't get your hopes up?" Bucky cautions.

"I'm not," Steve lies. Bucky gives him a raised eyebrow. "I'm trying not to?" Steve tries and Bucky sighs.

"I remember," he starts, "some of the physical things-"

"The sex," Steve interjects.

"Not just that though," Bucky nods. "Other things too. Like how I'd drape myself all over you at night or how you would direct me with subtle touches to pose for your drawings. That kinda stuff."

"That kinda stuff," Steve echoes, swallowing heavily.

"Just, as I said. Please don't get your hopes up just yet, okay? I have no idea when or if I'll ever be ready for something like that again."

"I'm happy just helping you, Buck," Steve assures. "In any way you need me. And if you ever want something like what we had again, then I'll be here waiting."

"I'm just saying, Steve, you might be waiting for a damn long time, just being upfront with you here. I'm not the same person I was back then so if you're just waiting for him to come back you'll wait until you rot."

"I get that, Bucky, I really do. Thing is, I'm not the same boy I was back then either, but I think with a little help and a lotta time we might just make it work."

"Yeah," Bucky nods, "we might just."

They sit in silence for a moment or two before Bucky balls up his napkin and says, "Come on, Stevie. Let's go home. I'm balls ass tired and I don't know about you but I could use a shower."

"You really could," Steve laughs, standing up too.

"You saying I smell?" Bucky asks.

"Your words, not mine."

And as they throw their trash away and Bucky leads the way out onto the street where the sky is just coloring with the first rays of sunrise Steve thinks, yeah, he would follow Bucky anywhere.

And he knows there's always gonna be nights when Bucky locks him out, days where he gets home to fist sized holes in the walls and shattered glass in the kitchen. He knows that Bucky will still sleep fully clothed and with a gun under his pillow because he's got one of his own.

And even if they're both fucked up and even if they've both changed beyond recognition,

even if they'll never again be the boys they once were Steve will follow him, just like he's always followed him.


End file.
